Moby Dick's Tales: Battle for Survival
by Freefan1412
Summary: Slight AU. On the Moby Dick everything can turn dangerous. Though more often than not certain people are present and the reason something turned dangerous in the first place. Food does not pose an exception.


Izo swallowed hard, fast and in general un-Izo-like, edging a bit more to the bench's end.

In other words as far away from the center of the room as possible without actually fleeing the battle. Said room, in which he and a good part of Moby Dick's crew, were currently present was more commonly known as 'mess hall' or as 'place to stuff myself'. That was just fine normally, but tonight was not normal (or whatever definition thereof). 'Normal' was not causing him to fear for his food (and subsequent survival).

No, what was causing Izo to do just that was sitting a few benches away; rows of siblings and tables and food separating Izou from them (more specifically him). However, insignificant distances like these might as well be none existent in this case, which was why Izo decided to forgo his personal (frequently polished) tableware and just eat his food quickly with still decent manners before it was stolen away (with or without his plate).

Ace and Thatch were keeping a (for the entire hall visible) scoreboard. Doubtlessly terribly amused, but still managing to keep a professional facade of importance.

The count was 50 to 45; Teach leading.

What exactly the two of them were counting was beyond Izo.

As was how they were doing it (the hall was in utter chaos with rubber arms, plates, curses and siblings flying around) or why the hell they bothered keeping score in the first place. Or what Teach had been thinking when he agreed (though, maybe the idiot hadn't been thinking at all). It was physically impossible for any non devilfruit user (and most users, too) to out eat a rubber stomach, which also had an appetite to compete attached.

Naturally, though, the Whitebeard Pirates lacked any common sense as a general rule, hence fruitless (ridiculous, useless, stupid) actions were all but extraordinary.

And Izo also was perfectly aware that if someone like him, who was as normal as they come (with just a few strange habits), even remotely tried to understand what was going on in the majority of his sibling's heads he would end up no less insane than them.

He'd rather not.

So he stopped thinking about the predicament he and his innocent siblings found themselves in.

Instead, now that he had finished his dinner and was not going to go to bed on an empty stomach, he strolled over to the exit (skillfully dodging unidentified projectiles on the way) from where Marco was eying the spectacle with an expression torn between amusement and anger.

"You should just laugh, you know," Izo commented as he leaned against the wall to enjoy the show. His survival was no longer affected so the whole thing turned funny. "It's not like they'd listen anyway."

Marco's eye twitched. A sure sign he was nearing his limit. "I am aware."

"What is it, then? Moping around isn't like you."

"'What is it', 'What is it', he says. Ha! Can't you see that!" Marco pointed a trembling finger at Sabo, who was standing next to the scoreboard with a list and box.

"A betting pool. So what?"

Marco bristled. "Do you have any idea what they are rising founds for?"

Izo froze, aghast. "Oh shit! What is it this time? I'm still nursing bruises from last week."

"That's just it! I. Don't. Fucking. Know!"

"But that is good, right? If you don't know then it can't be too big."

The Phoenix gave the crossdressser an incredulous (horrified) look. "It's NOT good! Not knowing means no damage control OR warning!"

"I still don't see a reason to panic. What are the chances that you or I are going to be hit again? Just sit back and enjoy the show. Besides, even if you find out what the plan is you wouldn't be able to prevent disaster anyway."

Marco's face lit up. "Oh~. Now that you mention it. It's only been a week since all Commanders have experienced '_that_'." Both shuddered. "And they wouldn't want everyone else to fall into a false sense of security. That's great! I can just watch everyone suffering this time!"

"Quite right." Izo slid off the wall and Marco jumped a foot in the air.

Next to them stood Sabo, hat clinging around his neck while some kind of yellow substance dripped down from his hair (pudding maybe) and his white shirt was spluttered with something red (hopefully just a tomato).

Sabo skilfully ignored the reaction both commanders gave at his presence, though he was probably laughing himself sick on the inside. "It would be absolutely tragic if our twohundred and some siblings forgot that we love them just as much as we love you." He gave them an absolutely (fake) innocent smile.

"Now, ya bastards, don't let me bother ya. I'm just passing through." With that he was gone. Up the stairs out of the door into the night. Perhaps to the toilet, or to drown himself with his idiocy, or to _prepare._

Izo looked at Marco. Marco looked at Izo.

"Somehow I'm suddenly very glad we already know how much we are loved," Izo remarked, rubbing a bruise.

Marco just grinned a crazy smile and watched the battle for food with newfound satisfaction.

* * *

First of all I want to thank Grz, who wrote me that i could perhaps do an eating competition. This is a result of his idea. Thank you very much.

Again, this is part of my Moby Dick's Tales series. Hope you liked it. :)

Please review so I know what you think about this. And please tell me if you have ideas that you want me to write.


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